


Fear of Flying

by somegunemojis



Series: Tender Mercies [17]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, short but sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:29:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26287246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somegunemojis/pseuds/somegunemojis
Summary: Saying that he tolerates the touch kind of implies he doesn't welcome it.
Relationships: Bettino Tahan/Alessio Rossi
Series: Tender Mercies [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893175





	Fear of Flying

January, 2013 -- [LOCATION REDACTED]

The heavy pounding of the chopper blades is both heard and felt. The headsets do well to cancel out the raging noise but they can’t completely drown it out, not when the metal surrounding them hums with every solid beat. Tahan can never sleep in these screaming metal death traps, no matter how exhausted he is. It feels like his heart syncs with every rapid, measured beat of the blades, like it will burst out of his chest. For him, time slows. There’s nowhere to put the energy. Normally-- well, normally he fidgets. 

But today it seems, after their weeks-long and trying assignment, Rossi has no such compunctions about it. He’s not sure when the younger man fell asleep, exactly. Not sure how long they’ve been in the air, not sure how much longer they have left in their trip. His head had fallen heavy and warm to rest on Tahan’s shoulder, and though he’s sure there will be more than one complaint about the kink in his neck when the other man wakes, he leaves him be. Rossi needs the sleep nearly as much as he needs to breathe, at this point. 

Tahan stays perfectly still, staring at Rospo, seated across from him. The older man has a lazy, half-smirk on his face, unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He gestures, vaguely, to the sleeping man on his shoulder. “Mannaggia is drooling all over you,” it’s hard to hear his low baritone even with the headsets and the mics, but Tahan gets the gist of it when he gestures to his own shoulder. 

He sighs softly, and when they hit a rough patch he reaches across his own torso to leave a steadying hand against Rossi’s collarbone, to keep him from falling forward and starting awake. Rospo gives the pair of them a fond look, and then closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the cold wall of the helicopter body. Rossi’s too-long hair has fallen into his face, and he can feel the man’s nose and cheeks twitching at the itch of it. Carefully, so as not to scrape his skin with the rough fabric of his kevlar gloves, Tahan brushes the strands off his forehead with his knuckles. Rossi settles back into his shoulder with a quiet sigh, and he remains utterly still for the rest of the long flight, unwilling to stir and wake him even once his fingers, his hand, and then eventually his arm start to go numb.


End file.
